When The Sun Rises | ✔

32 | Resting Place

Chapter 32 | Resting Place

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        Getting the go-ahead from Rondo to take my break, I toss my apron beneath the bar and make my way down the hall to Miss Doll's office.

        Standing in front of her door, I look back to the main dining area and lock eyes with Vino standing on the opposite end clearing a table; my thoughts drift back to our moment underneath the porch light and gray moths – the moment we went from friends to what the hell is this. At first, all he does is look at me, but eventually, he gives me a head nod and his expression melts into a lopsided grin. Before I can react, he's picking up the bin and moving on to the next table.

        Donovan had dropped me off to the restaurant right after school so this had been our first time seeing each other since our night out, and we had yet to talk about the kiss.

        I rap my knuckles on the door and ease it open. The speaker on the corner of her desk is playing an Anthony Hamilton song and the faint smell of incense wafts from the office.

        She's squinting at the computer screen, both hands cupped around her mug as she raises it to her lips to take a sip – just as steady and composed as she'd been the day I met her. I chuckle at the sight.

        "Knock, knock. It's Keila, Miss Doll."

        Peering up at me through the opening, she waves me in and takes off her glasses, a smile already spreading across her lips.

        "Come on in, baby."

        I close the door behind me and cross the room to plop down in the chair. Just as I'm settling into a comfortable position the music fades out and transitions to something more upbeat.

        "You a whole vibe in here, Miss Doll. Got the incense burning with the Anthony Hamilton playing in the background. What you know about that? You supposed to be in here bumping them Clark Sisters and that Hezekiah Walker. Or at least Aretha Franklin or something," I chuckle.

        She waves a hand at me and says, "God ain't got nothing against a little soul music, chile." Bobbing her head along with the music, she looks at me through narrowed eyes. "And what you know about my Clark Sisters? That's before your time. I don't even think we have them out there on the juke."

        "Nah, we don't, but my Daddy was into old gospel music so I probably know just as much of their music as you. I can't tell you how many times I had to ride to school listening to them," I say and laugh at the memory.  "He used to always say it was good to start the day with a little bit of Jesus."

        "Hmm..."

        "What?"

        She reaches over to lower the volume of the music and props her chin on her fists. "You squirm like you got pins and needles sticking you in your rear-end whenever I mention anything close to Jesus. I'm just surprised to hear you talking about it so freely."

        "I was raised in church and the Grandors still make me go every Sunday," I say. "For me, personally, I don't know if I believe in it – haven't been given any reason to. But that don't mean I don't know about it. I know plenty, it's just not for me. At least not right now."

        Remembering my reason for coming to her office, I scoot forward in the seat. "On another note, I got some news for you."

        For a few seconds she studies me; probably trying to decide whether or not she wants to press me on the issue, but all she does is drum her fingers along the desktop and nod.